


Faulty Technology

by masongirl



Series: Request Game drabbles [6]
Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Cyborgs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Holography, M/M, Prosthesis, Science Fiction, Sleepy Cuddles, Space Flight, Stars, Technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masongirl/pseuds/masongirl
Summary: Joe and George are on their way to the Moon when they get stuck in a traffic jam.
Relationships: George Luz/Joseph Toye
Series: Request Game drabbles [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792132
Kudos: 8





	Faulty Technology

**Author's Note:**

> Requested as part of a game I posted on Tumblr [here.](https://speirtongirl.tumblr.com/post/621121012587757568/request-game)

They are on their way to the Moon in their second-hand Comet 2100 when a wave of red lights up along the line of personal spaceships ahead of them. Joe switches to hovering gear and slumps in the pilot chair, making a plaintive noise. Every damn time they take this route to the Spacefleet outpost Bill works at, they get stuck in traffic. Is it a cosmic conspiracy against Joe's sanity? 

A shiny black SpaceX oldtimer races past under them, and Joe snarls at its form on the monitor, muttering under his breath. "Asshole! Do you think we're here for fun? Entitled prick, good luck with the cell the Fleet reserves for you."

Next to him, George snuffles and makes a show of stretching in a way that lets his hand brush Joe's elbow. His seat is in slumber mode, forming a comfortable bed with a light filter projected around it. Essentially, he's listening to Joe's seething from a cosy, dark nest.

Joe glowers at him, even though he knows George won't be able to see it. "That's right, just sleep through it all."

George draws the tip of his index finger up and down Joe's forearm. "You could join me if you switched to robot pilot."

They inch forward at a plane's pace, not making any substantial progress. Without doubt, Joe could leave his seat and cuddle his boyfriend instead, but he'd rather be safe. Technology can't replace human cognition. "I don't trust that crap."

Thankfully, George doesn't take the opportunity to point out how ironic it is that Joe, of all people, has an aversion to robotic control. He just turns the black filter off and pats the space under his outstretched left arm. "It's not like we're crossing an asteroid belt. Come here already."

It's tempting, but Joe doesn't want to leave himself at the mercy of a machine. It's bad enough that he needs to live as a cyborg until they save enough money to pay for his limb reconstruction. "A hundred years ago, they thought we'd be able to teleport across a galaxy in a second. What was that movie, you know, the one where -"

"Star Trek."

"Star Trek. People actually believed in that. And what do we have now? Starway jams. Takes four hours to get to the Moon. We're not going to the Alpha Centauri, for Isaac's sake."

George knows him well enough not to fuel his rant with a reply. He just keeps caressing Joe's arm to abate his irritation until he suddenly stops and bursts into laughter. "Joe, I think your leg fused with the map."

"Fuck, no." Joe curses and looks down. 

From the middle of his thigh, his right leg has become transparent, and there are stars scattered all over it, the blue-white Rigel, Betelgeuse with its reddish hue, the blindingly bright Sirius and hundreds more, constellations of light. When he slaps it, it switches to planetary system view and, as it would be on the holographic map too, the starways look like golden fissures on the surface. 

"Georgie, look at this shit!"

"I can see it, baby." George tells him solemnly, but his mouth wobbles, and a second later, he has a fit of giggles again, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "There's a fly-through diner by your kneecap."

"It's not funny." Joe protests and switches to the hated robot pilot because he can't concentrate anymore. 

He's pissed off, but when he squeezes himself into the passenger seat beside George, the kisses peppered all over his face mollify him. George turns the light filter back on, and the illusion of a dark cloud spills out around them, shutting the world out. It's almost like being home in their bed, except, George's not clicking through projections of natural habitats, but keeps swiping his thumb and forefinger on Joe's thigh until the malfunctioning map has zoomed in on a rainforest. Deep green trees take over Joe's leg. 

"I hate this new feature." Joe grumbles. He doesn't want a biomechatronic leg that's compatible with every machine in the universe, he wants one that works like a living body part would. If only prosthetic companies sold limbs that didn't play music or connect to fucking PSS maps.

George lays his head on Joe's chest and hugs him sleepily. "Some people actually pay to get healthy limbs replaced with this model."

"I know. Idiots." Joe scoffs. "This artificial shit drives me crazy. I just want my leg back."

"One more month and you can have the surgery." George mumbles. His breathing evens out. 

A message pops up just above Joe's knee, offering an alternative route to Bill's base, but, after a few seconds of hesitation, Joe dismisses it. Maybe, it's not that terrible an idea to sit back and let the AI fly them to the Moon. He zooms out to look at their little corner of the galaxy and its familiar stars, then kisses George's forehead, wondering about the future. "One more month."

  
_~End~_


End file.
